noctxj

[noctxj]

Part 2 of this drabble

“So you’re telling me,” Soap started, “you two met… at a farmer’s market? I don’t believe that for a second.”

After infiltrating their lieutenant’s lunch date Soap and Gaz made themselves comfortable in his office. Their interrogation was polite… as long as the question’s were aimed at you and not Ghost.

“It was closer than the store.” Ghost shrugged. He was the one doing most of the answering, mainly because his sergeants took him hiding his missus as a top tier personal insult.

“And… you liked him?” Gaz asked, looking over at you, “Like actually wanted to know him more?”

“Yeah?” You answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Because truthfully it is, Gaz is just trying to rib at his superior. He held back a snicker at Ghost’s glare.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Soap started again with a new train of questions, “How long ago was this?”

“Five years ago?” You say, “S’about closer to six now.”

“Fuckin’ hell, L.t., here I was thinking we were your mates.” Soap said, and although he was laying the dramatics on quite thick, he was a little hurt this was such a secret topic. He understood it, sure, but it still hurt a little. Simon didn’t respond, opting to eat a bite of his now cold lunch. He was still a bit annoyed at the interruption. It was a rarity that you would come to base at all, let alone sit and eat lunch in his office with him.

“I feel like we need to get John in here.” You say to Simon, noting the only person missing.

“So the lass knows John but you haven’t let us meet her?!” Both Sergeants nearly fell out of their seats they leant forward so fast. You couldn’t hold back your laugh fast enough. Their gazes turn to you as you neutralize your face a little bit, but your little smirk is unmistakable.

“He was at our wedding.” You reply, glancing at Simon before deciding to stir the pot more, “Him and his wife invite us over for dinner occasionally.”

The sergeants took a look at each other before simultaneously rising from their chairs, “got two bloody fuckin’ traitors on this team.”

The two left Ghost’s office to immediately hunt down their captain who has also been hiding a chunk of his life from them.

Simon looks over at you with a raised brow, and you shrug, “If our secret’s outed so is his.”

Simon shook his head with a small smile, the scar on his lip turning white, “Can’t imagine how they’ll react when they find out about the girls.”

You laugh, “They’re not babysitting for us alone.”

“They’re not babysitting for us at all if I can help it.” Simon grumbled, but the glint in his brown eyes made it clear he was thinking.

“Would make it easier to get you alone.” Simon murmured, his voice lower as he turned his attention to you. He caught your chair with his boot, scooting you closer to him, “Y’know, the girls were talking about how they wanted a brother.”

You sighed, “Simon Riley, I am eating soup.”

It was finally Simon’s turn to laugh, chuckling as he leaned over to press a kiss to your temple, “I know, love.”

[noctxj]

Thinking about German shepherd shifter!reader?? Who was a previous member of the shadow company experiencing culture shock with the 141??

Meeting price and feeling so confused when he doesn't so much as reach for your collar beyond giving it a raised brow. It feels odd not having his dominance reasserted, and it leaves you feeling off-kilter. Sure, you know implicitly that price is in charge, but you also feel like an outsider without him claiming ownership.

Then you meet soap and ghost, and truly feel as though you've fallen into some twisted reality. Both of them are undoubtedly shifters by the smell alone, but they greet you in human form. Not only that, they greet you like shifters while in human form, reaching out their wrists for you to scent them.

And god, don't they realize that price is right there? your nerves raise as he watches passively. Is this a test? Surely, it's a test. So you gently pull away, subtly turn your head in a rejection that has soap's lips curling. Still, when you hold out a hand for a human greeting, they accept.

But it doesn't stop there. Every interaction for the weeks following just feels...wrong. Like everyone was in one some ruleset that you were left to figure out. Ghost spent a lot of his time shifted, but you hardly ever saw Soap shift? And even in their dog forms, Gaz and Price talked to them like humans?

Eating is horrible, because they all seem to agree on team meals. Eating at a table always made you nervous, especially when everyone was familiar. The few times you joined your peers in the mess back with the shadows, people were constantly stealing food off each other's plates and laughing around. Except you weren't allowed to take food back because that's rude and it leaves your gums aching whenever a hand strays too close to your plate even if they never grab.

The worst part has to be sleeping, though. You're used to a crate, or maybe a small space under another shadow's bed, but now you have a whole room? And it feels so empty. It makes your skin crawl and leaves you pacing anxious circles into the floor. The space is so big, and your bed is too low to the ground to fit under it, but you don't want to move anything in case Price gets mad and– you end up not really sleeping at all.

Every single day, while you run laps in the morning before breakfast, the guys gather around and worry. Worry about you, about what they're doing wrong. How the hell they can even begin to help you when you reject them at every turn.

While you feel like all your bids for attention are being ignored, they wait desperately for you to reach out.

[noctxj]

been thinking a lot about pleasure dom simon who holds out his own orgasm until you physically cannot orgasm anymore

simon's weight was pinning you to the mattress, his bulky body caging yours. you were a trembling, oversensitive mess beneath him. he'd already wrung two orgasms from you, each one leaving you more boneless and shattered than the last. his cock was relentless, stroking places that felt too raw. 

"simon, please," you whimpered, your voice hoarse. "i can't...no more."

"shhh, baby," he murmured, his voice a rough gravel against your ear. his hips never stopped their slow, deep rhythm. "you can take it. gonna give me one more. just one more pretty little orgasm for me."

your head tossed back on the pillow. his eyes, dark and hungry, roamed over your bouncing breasts, the sheen of sweat on your skin, the way your stomach buldged with each of his thrusts.

"look at you," he growled, his pace never faltering. "so fuckin' pretty when you're ruined. all mine. every shaky breath, every little tear. all f'me."

you felt another climax building, a terrifying wave of pleasure and pain that you weren't sure you could survive. your fingers dug into the hard muscle of his forearms. "simon, i'm gonna—"

"i know," he cooed, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. his thrusts became sharper, more precise, aimed directly at that swollen, aching spot inside you. "that's it. come on, sweetheart. squeeze my cock. milk me. let me feel you."

the orgasm crashed over you with a violence that stole your breath. a broken sob was torn from your throat as your body seized, clenching around him in a series of frantic, uncontrollable pulses. white spots danced behind your eyelids.

"that's it," he coaxed, his voice dropping into that filthy tone that unraveled you completely. " fluttering around my cock, getting all tight for me. you gonna come again? gonna cream all over my dick like a good girl?"

through the blinding, overwhelming haze, you felt him. he was pulsing inside you, but his rhythm didn't break. he didn't cum yet like you had expected. he just kept fucking you, his movements becoming even more controlled, drawing out your own climax.

"fuck, that's it," he grunted, his own control a thing of iron and will. "that's my good girl. taking it so well. but i'm not done with you."

"you feel so good," he growled, his hand sliding down to your clit, rubbing rough, deliberate circles that made you jolt. "so fucking wet and used. all for me. my good girl. taking my cock so deep, even when she's all sore and oversensitive."

you moaned a pathetic, pleading sound, trying to squirm away from the intensity, but his hands clamped on your hips, holding you still.

"nuh-uh," he tsked, his voice dropping into that deep, possessive tone that made your core clench all over again. 

"where do you think you're going? i'm not nearly done. gonna fuck you through this one...and then," he drove into you, hard, punctuating his words, "i'm gonna hold you down and fuck another one out of this perfect little cunt. gonna watch you come apart until you forget your own name."

he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. "and only then," he whispered, the promise a dark, thrilling shock, "only when you're sobbing and begging me to come, will i finally fill you up. gonna pump you so full of me, you'll feel it for days."

[noctxj]

Surprise, surprise. I still don’t fucking like it 🤗🤗 it’s like doing my hair and one side just won’t go right 😭😭 pt 3

Anyways, fourth times a charm 😀

——————

“Try this.” He says, not giving you a chance to object with his finger already in your mouth.

It’s a sauce. A new one. Must have been the one he was being so secretive about.

You lick it off, not caring for the eyes, so tuned in to him and the sauce and slight tang of grease covering his hands.

“It’s good.” You say when he takes it out. “What is it?”

“A chef never tells his recipes.”

“Cookbooks exist.” You deadpan.

“….”

“Can I have some more? Please.” You say, a sweet smile on your face.

You haven’t even noticed he’s just baited you into eating after noticing that you haven’t in the last 5 hours.

He pairs his sauce with a few chicken tenders and fries, making you sit in a little corner of the kitchen, not letting you up until you’ve finished the plate and downed a cup of water.

He watches you the entire time, even when he cooks, not burning a single item. He watches you like a possessive dog, jealous of all the patrons who get your attention all afternoon while he only has glimpses of you in passing until he’s able to sit you down and feed you properly.

——————

Okay, I think I got it right 😵😵🫩

@cece2608 @marchingbandaddict

[noctxj]

As I published it, the kinda pt 2 of linecook!simon did not come out how I wanted AT ALL, so you get an immediate pt 3 :)

——————

After the whole debacle with the customer, Simon was put under heavy watching, which meant no small moments with you, which meant you hadn’t been eating enough on the job for him.

So, of course when you come ring in a dish and pick up another, he has to say something.

“You haven’t eaten yet dove.” It’s a statement, not a suggestion.

“I know, I’m so busy though. And you’re kind of in trouble, I don’t want to—”

“I’d get fired before I left you hungry love. Drop that off and come back, got something I want you to try.”

You can’t help the smile that comes across your face. You make quick work of the food and drinks and refills before you’re cramped in the kitchen again with Simon.

“Good?” He asks, hand feeding you a piece of mystery meat.

You say nothing, used to this treatment.

“Mmm! Yes, what is it?” You ask, already eyeing the plate with more on it.

“Brisket. Trying out some southern foods.” He explains before giving you some more, and a nonalcoholic drink from the bar to wash it down.

You can’t help but feel grateful even if your supervisor is glaring at the both of you.

——————

@cece2608 @marchingbandaddict

[noctxj]

Part 2 cause yall liked the lil blurb thingy (1)

Linecook!simon who knows when you haven’t eaten enough.

——————

He’s indefinitely tuned to you and your feelings, the micro expressions a language only he understands fluently. Each step of anger or bounce of happiness all caught by him and him only.

So, of course he notices when you haven’t come in by lunch to ask him to make you something. It’s weird and sets him off. All his senses pointing to something being wrong. Maybe with him but never you.

Had he made you mad? Had he messed up an order? Made your favorite sandwich wrong? Messed up his signature sauce?

The thoughts raced and he couldn’t help but abandon post and look for you.

The sight he found made him furious: you, being heckled and yelled at by unknowns, people he wouldn’t mind putting his fist through.

His steps towards the scene were foreboding and unnerving, unsettling anyone nearby.

“There a problem?” He says, but it’s not a question. It’s a warning.

“Ye-” one of the guys starts before quieting down at the large body just behind you.

You don’t cower, but you welcome his presence. It’s been a while since Simon has come out of the kitchen, knowing well enough why he was kept back there.

You finally turned to Simon, his own eyes burrowing into the group behind you.

“One of them said his burger was undercooked and that the fries were too soggy.” You relay, watching Simon’s eye twitch before falling on you.

He stares for a moment, longer than what’s normally acceptable, but he can’t help himself.

“And how the fuck is that their problem?” He asks the group, rough voice quieting the entirety of the restaurant.

“W-well—”

“As far as I’m concerned they aren’t the one back there cooking. So if you’ve got a problem you come talk me, not them.” He barks out, glaring at the group in a quick swoop.

“Speak.” He growls out. “Tell me what I messed up.” He continues.

The group is quiet, none look at the burly cook with a blood spattered apron and big hands large enough to snuff out a bear.

“Yell at them, or any fucking waiter again and I will show you why I’m kept in the back. And the tip better be fucking twice what you paid here.” He says after an uncomfortable amount of silence.

You say nothing, before following him into the back, eyes shining in thanks.

“You didn’t have to, Si.” You say though you couldn’t deny that it was kinda hot.

“Some people need to learn some fucking manners.” He murmurs, already starting on your sandwich now that he’s got you all to himself and can fill your stomach to his hearts content.

“But you didn’t have to threaten them— and twice the bill?” You continue on. “Si, I mean really, what if we get bad reviews—”

He puts something in your mouth. Something new, his own creation. He had been a little flustered to let anyone try it until he had perfected it, but he really didn’t need a lesson on manners right now.

You shut up however, not even realizing how hungry you were until you start munching, eyes wide and wanting more.

“Wha— Simon, do you have more?” You ask eagerly.

For you, always. “Only for quiet waiters.” He teases, watching you as he flips whatever was in the pan.

You can only nod, mouth open and waiting for more as he pops another piece into your mouth.

You eat in silence, him watching your every expression as you chewed, silently hoping that it was as good as he thought it’d be. Your opinion was the only one that mattered when he tried something new in the kitchen.

——————

:) hope you enjoyed 🖤🩶🤍

@drewsuncrustables

[noctxj]

When you’re hungry and remember the line cook has a crush on you.

——————

You make your way to the back, rush hour finally slowing down enough for you to decompress.

“Simon?!” You call out, his response immediate.

“Yes, love?” He inquires, poking his head around the corner.

You’re a bit shy about it, but your stomach protest louder than you think as he eyes your middle before dragging lidded eyes back up to yours.

“Could you make me a sandwich, please?”

He silently nods, turning back to the sizzling stove, your sandwich the only thing on his mind. The others before could wait, his favorite waiter was hungry…

Pt 2

[noctxj]

roach, get back on track!!

[noctxj]

Servant Simon Riley and Princess reader. ☽ Part One ☾

The news spread like wildfire within the Kingdom. You, the Princess, had chosen a common blood to be your husband. A servant.

Simon couldn't believe it, he felt all eyes on him as you were both dragged to your father's office. Blood rushing in his ears, struggling to fully process the situation.

"What were you thinking?! He is a common blood!" Your father shouted, pacing back and forth as your mother tried to calm him.

"I chose Simon! You and I both know that you cannot go against my choosing once I have made that decision!" You snapped.

Your father glared at you, demanding that you and Simon get out.

You glance at Simon every now and then as the two of you walked down the corridor. Staying silent, too scared to speak. But Simon does it for you. "Why me?"

You don't hesitate. "Because you're better than any of the suitors presented to me. You were merely yourself, rather than putting on a show like a male bird"

Simon grunted quietly, the corners of his lips giving a small twitch.

"I have one request, Princess" Simon said quietly.

"Make it"

"I wish to receive enough knowledge and education to become knighted"

You blink at Simon, everything making sense now. Why he was so serious, why he had the muscular build that was odd for a mere servant. "Of course" You say softly.

After that, you tried your best to educate Simon. Teaching him how to read and write, the history of the Kingdom. Simon tried his best to understand everything, but he struggled with the reading part especially.

"It's okay, Simon" you said softly, watching his brow furrow deeply, fist clenching in pure frustration.

"Why is this so Gods damn difficult?!" Simon growled, and you carefully place a hand on his thigh for reassurance; but when you notice how he tensed, then leaned into it so your hand would graze the growing bulge in his pants, an idea struck.

"Try again" you murmur, reaching under the waistband and pulling out his hardened cock.

"Princess-"

"Just trust me" you instruct gently, nodding at Simon to continue.

Simon began reading out loud once more, your hand beginning to stroke him; keeping a firm grip stroking from base to tip, making sure to squeeze around the head before gliding back down again.

"Shit-fuck" Simon groaned, and you immediately stopped moving your hand.

"A future King should not curse" you smile in amusement "keep reading"

Simon let out a shaky breath before continuing to read, his hips shifting every now and then when your thumb brushed against his frenulum.

You moved faster as Simon began to read at a faster pace, assuming that when he finished you'd let him come.

You smiled at his eagerness. Swiping your thumb over his slit.

Simon finally finished reading the text you'd written him, and his hips were bucking far more frequently.

You lean in, kissing and nipping at his neck "You did so good, Si. You're gonna make an amazing Knight, an even better King"

Simon slammed his fist on the table, biting out a growl as his seed covered your hand.

You smile again. Letting Simon recollect himself; before you lick your fingers clean, Simon unable to look at you without his cock throbbing.

"I think this is a perfect way for you to learn things, Si"

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

Buy my cat a treat? (•˕ •マ.ᐟ

[noctxj]

Price complained about his lunch to you, his missus. Does not end well for him…

Price had been muttering since morning. Not about the mission, not about the weather, but about his lunch.

“Bloody same thing every day,” he grumbled under his breath while checking his kit. “Sandwiches, sandwiches, sandwiches. They knows I hate cucumber…”

Soap caught it, of course. “What’s the matter, Captain? Yer lady runnin’ outta ideas?”

“Mind your business, Johnny,” Price growled, tugging his cap lower. But his bad mood carried all the way through the day.

When the squad finally sat down for a breather, Price pulled out his lunchbox. He was ready to see another neatly wrapped sandwich, probably the same thing he’d been eating all week.

Instead, when he peeled back the bread, he froze. No cheese. No ham. No cucumber. Nothing but two plain slices of bread and a note shoved between them.

In bold marker, it reads:

“Fuck you. Make your own lunch next time.

<3 –Y/N”

The lads went feral.

Soap nearly fell off his rock laughing. “OH GOD- they actually wrote it out proper! With a heart at the end! That’s marriage-grade fury, Cap!”

Gaz doubled over. “Y/N sick of your whining, mate. You’ve been demoted from sandwiches to bread.”

Even Ghost’s voice carried amusement. “Generous of em, giving you bread at all.”

Price sat there, shoulders stiff, cheeks red, muttering into his mustache. “Bloody hell…”

Soap leaned over with his own sandwich, grinning ear to ear. “Fancy a trade, Cap? Mine’s got cheese and a partner who doesn’t hate me.”

Gaz added between snickers, “Better hope they doesn’t swap your dinner for just a plate with a sticky note that says ‘starve.’”

Price sighed and tucked the note back between the bread, defeated. “Should’ve kept my mouth shut…”

[noctxj]

🐱🐱

[noctxj]

you know it's for life with your lieutenant because you always wake up wondering if today is the you'll finally kill him or just fuck him again. (18+)

there are too many instances of ghost getting on your nerves. he liked to play the rank-card most of the time, kissing his teeth and pushing a half-empty mug your way whenever he fancies himself a cuppa. when you snap a curt, "get it yourself," he always tilts his head to the side and gives you a low, "we got a problem, sergeant?" so there you are, in the rec room, calling him every nasty name under your breath as you steep his tea for not enough time and bring it to him with a scowl. you even look him in the eyes as you lean over and spit right into the cup, but ghost is an asshole, so he takes it from you and takes a sip like nothing ever happened.

he likes using his size against you, especially during drills, in training. calls you stupid, childish names like shrimp and biscuit and little one, not even giving you a chance when you step up to him on the mat. he swats your swings away like you're nothing but a fly and tosses you over his shoulder with barely a grunt. you're left bruised and embarrassed and bleeding from a cut on your lip, and ghost doesn't break a sweat. he laughs in your face, low voice mocking you, taunting you, and you think about putting his face in the crook of the door and slamming it against his head over and over and over again.

he's so mean. he's so cruel. he's so unfair.

"wot, y'gonna show me y'r teeth now, tha' it?"

you glare at him from between his thighs. your cheeks are puffed, cockhead deep inside as you gasp and suck around the thick of him. your teeth are grazing him from how much he fills your mouth, and he grits his teeth as he tangles a gloved hand in your hair and forces a glob of spit down your chin from the way he draws your head back.

he pulls you off of him, and you take deep breaths, whining as he uses the grip on your hair to draw you up off your knees and into his lap.

"giving me a fuckin' headache," he grunts, and you wrap a hand around his cock and twist your wrist. his jaw clenches as you drag your fingers through the slick mess you've left, rubbing just on the underside of him like he likes and feeling him twitch, hot and throbbing.

"shut the fuck up and come," you hiss. ghost laughs.

"yeah? weren't such a brat, maybe i'd be inclined ta."

"your dick says otherwise, baby," you whisper. "there it is, c'mon—"

"fuckin' hell—"

you thrash as you kick your cargoes off. straddling his thick waist, keeping your hand moving, pulling your knickers to the side. there's no foreplay—you won't be able to take him without his fingers, but you're desperate, hooking your free arm around his neck as you guide the tip of him inside of you. it's all you can take without prep, but you keep him there, slicking up his cock as you keep your hand moving and whine against the mouth of his mask. you need it, you need him, as much as you want to bash his teeth in sometimes, as much as you want to throw his blades right back at him, there's something so delicious about seeing him this way.

his terrifying cock. his big presence, physically, emotionally. his dead eyes that look at you adoringly whenever there's a moment of reprieve—there are so many times where you think, where you're certain, that you hate him, but then he's got you underneath him, and his lips are on your jaw, and he's telling you how warm you are as he comes until you're leaking. globs of cum webbing between your thighs, cooling underneath you, exactly where it's supposed to be as he tilts your body up, arches your back, and kisses you as long as there's no light to see his face.

"simon?" you mumble. he lets you call him that when it's late enough. when there's no chance anyone else will hear you. when you're smushed against his side, cheek pressed up against his pudgy chest, legs tangled between his as you snuggle into his body heat.

"wot is it?"

you close your eyes, adjusting your head until you can hear the steady beat of his heart under his ribs. if you didn't hear it yourself like this, you don't think you'd even believe it was real.

"it's..." you swallow. "it's just me...right?"

the insecurity bleeds from your tone like it would from a deep wound. severe. chaotic. pathetic.

"hm." you squeeze your eyes when you feel his hand on your own. fingers touching the naked space where a certain band might go, deft rub against your ring finger that makes your toes curl. "just you."

hmm. well, okay. you'll make up your mind in the morning; just like always.

[noctxj]

Your words dissolve into broken little noises, nothing but hot little broken noises against Simon's palm as he fucks your pussy open from the back. His hand is so big it covers half your face, his thumb digging into your cheek as you try to get the words out.

You try— you try— to mumble that you're not like this, that you don't make it a habit to let men follow you home from bars, don't let them fuck just because they pulled a drunk off your arm, but it only comes out wet and incoherent, smeared into the calluses on his palm.

Simon's watching your sweet pussy fuck right open, eyes sharp even through the mess of sweat on his brow, fixed on the way you stretch and drag around his cock, clinging to him every time he pulls out just to drive back in harder, deeper.

It's then that he hears the muffled garble, feels your jaw working against his hand and leans close, his breath fanning hot over the crown of your head. "Whas'at, sweet'eart? Tryn' to tell me somethin'?"

But he doesn't let you speak, not after feeling the first flutter of your pussy, the warning tremor that tells him you're close. Whatever he keeps forcing back down your throat can wait— That's it, right there, let it fuckin' take ya— and you can feel teeth scraping your skin as he presses down, caging you in.

It's only after your orgasm rips through you like wildfire, clutching his cock so fucking sweet, until you've come twice? thrice? that he peels his hand away, leaving your mouth damp with spit where you gasped into his palm, and grips your jaw, forcing your head back towards his chest. "Atta doll. Took me right through it. Go on, now. Say what you were tryin' so hard to get out."

"Mmm—I'm not— I don't— don't usually do this. I'm—"

Simon rolls his hips, and a half-sob half-plea tears from your throat. "No?" His voice is rough, thick with condescension, the rumble vibrating through his chest and into your spine. "'s that why you're trippin' over your pretty little shoes to fuck back on it?"

He can feel the way you’re tightening, see the glossy slick dampening the hair at the base of his cock and running down his thighs. Simon drags you tighter against him, making sure you feel every single inch of him even as your words splutter and break.

"Tell yourself whatever helps you sleep at night."

[noctxj]

simon’s on top of you, all heat and weight, grinding into you so deep it feels like he’s splitting you in two. sweat’s dripping down onto your chest, your thighs trembling around his waist, but he doesn’t slow down—not even a little. his hand presses hard against your stomach, flattening it, like he’s trying to mold your body around his cock.

“that’s it,” he rasps, breath hot in your ear. “take it, sweetheart. take every fuckin’ inch.” his hips snap forward harder, dragging broken little cries from your throat. “gonna fill you up till you’re dripping. you won’t fuckin’ move without rememberin’ who owns this cunt.”

your nails dig into his back, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, attempting to muffle how loud you’re getting—but he catches your chin, forcing your eyes on him. “nah—don’t hide it. let me hear you. whole house should know who’s fuckin’ you like this.”

he’s relentless, pace punishing, cock driving so deep you swear you feel it in your lungs. his other hand spreads your thighs wider, keeping you open for every brutal thrust. “gonna breed you full,” he groans, voice shaking, “walk around leaking me for days—everyone’ll know you’re mine.”

and when you finally break under him—crying, clawing at his skin—he just growls like he’s proud, spilling deep and grinding it in, like he’s scared to let a single drop go to waste.

cod tags: @3m3lia9 @aztecbrujeria @km-ffluv @tessakate @seasonstreesbloom @h0lydrag0ns @viscade @i-live-in-spite @avgdestitute @ghostsd8s @fertilise-me @xylov @deadbutdelicious1 @mxsatorisimp @superunkn0wn-blog @glossygreene @imjustaprettyyprincess @ccainesideboob @calisnewworld @sheepdogchick3 @lovewitchss @lucienofthelakes @brooklynsbookworm @sunflower-daisyfields

[noctxj]

a demon gently, lovingly forcing an orgasm out of an overanxious angel. its wings fluff and flutter uncontrollably while it rides their fingers, begging "no, please, i can't, i can't cum, i don't want—"

being told so softly "you can, honey, let go for me, i've got you, let yourself have it—"

[noctxj]

Shadow: Okay, yes, Ghost is scary. But not everything he does is scary

Gaz: You say that now, but wait until he chases you while humming circus music

Shadow:

Shadow: Are you okay, man?

Gaz: No

[noctxj]

18+ content , mdni | 141 x plus size!fem!reader

The minute Johnny spots a curvy lass, his greedy eyes fall to those thick thighs and all he can picture is his head being crushed between them as he fucks your pussy with his tongue, making you squirm and cry out in ecstasy.

In his opinion, there's no finer way to go.

Simon doesn't discriminate but his eyes are always drawn to the bigger birds; the generous curves, the wider arses, the fuller tits.

When it comes to those things, he's practically a salivating dog, trousers growing tight as he imagines picking you up and railing you up against the nearest wall or surface.

John adores your bigger body; from the swell of your plush stomach to the rolls adorning your sides, he makes sure to love every inch just like you deserve.

And you best know he's going to be personally feeding you, like one of those renaissance paintings with the man feeding the woman grapes.

He lives to serve his beautiful love, including fucking you in front of a mirror where he can make you watch him worship you like the divine goddess you are.

Kyle tries so hard not to stare but it's so hard when you're sculpted like the statue of some ancient goddess, all plush and soft and heavenly.

At first, his thoughts are innocent enough, picturing laying his head down on your stomach, sighing in content as he drifts off to sleep - and then his thoughts turn to the way your ass would shake, hypnotised by the movements as he plowed into you from behind.

need me a man like these fine men 😫

they would eat their soft woman up and leave no crumbs behind 🍽

hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading 🫶

- kat